


Dad Clyde & Dad Bod

by in_chains_and_flesh_and_leather



Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Clyde gains that sympathy weight, Diet, F/M, Insecurity, Pregnancy, RC loves his soft dad pouch, body issues, dad bod, dad bod smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27941060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_chains_and_flesh_and_leather/pseuds/in_chains_and_flesh_and_leather
Summary: Dad Clyde deals with some body issues, gets all the love.
Relationships: Clyde Logan/Reader, Clyde Logan/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

  


*****

Dad!Clyde gains _all_ the sympathy weight when you’re pregnant and develops a rockin’ dad bod.

When you have a middle of the night craving for a whole ass meal, he shares it with you and you’re pretty happy you have a partner in crime so you don’t devour everything and gain all the weight yourself. For several nights in a row, you find yourselves getting takeout, pigging out like drunk teenagers at 3am and slipping into a food coma till the morning.

it also turns out that some of the weird, seemingly nasty food combinations your body and brain came up with… weren’t half bad. So even when you stopped craving them, Clyde was still partaking. Mostly surreptitiously and with low-level shame; you’d just wake up and find a knife covered in peanut butter and a pickle jar out.

What also wasn’t helping his tummy stay flat was that as your food portions increased, so did his; it was an unconscious change that didn’t seem to have any consequences… until he started using the next hole in his belt. And then he didn’t need the belt at all.

So then one day, you find him in front of your full-length mirror, twisting around, shirt up and looking at himself, running a hand over his lower abdomen, squeezing and pinching in a few places.

“Darlin?“ - he asks, unsure, not looking away from the reflection. - “Am I… gettin’ fat?“

You can’t help the little chuckle that you try to stifle with a hand over your lips.You didn’t notice anything as it was happening, but now that he mentions it, yeah, you can kind of see it. And it’s adorable. - “No, honey! You’re just… a bit huskier than before.“

“Aw, gawd, no! Husky’s jus’ code for fat.“ - his shoulders slump, making his tiny belly protrude and he looks like a sad little boy who dropped his ice-scream on the sidewalk.

“It’s not! It’s barely there.“ - you shake your head at how he’s taking these few pounds to heart, coming up behind him to hug him and get your hands on it, see what your man is working with now.

“Don’ touch it, it’s..ugh!“ - he recoils when you try to hold him, feeling really self-conscious and utterly unattractive all of a sudden. 

“It’s what?” - you ask, hand on hip, miffed at the implication that there is something wrong with him, or anyone, having a belly. - “I’m over here looking like I swallowed a watermelon and you’re freaking out over this?“ - you pinch at it and he jerks away like you burned him with a hot poker. 

You stand there looking at him and the disappointment on his face, as if he didn’t know he was cutest, sweetest and fucking sexiest man you’ve ever seen.

“It’s also kinda… Y’know.“ - you shrug. - “Doing it for me.“

He narrows his eyes at you, but tuts, convincing himself you weren’t serious. - “No…” - he goes to pull the shirt down, but you come up and stop him, index finger hooking inside his pants, running against his skin along with the belt and, shit, that feels really good.

“What? No, stop it. Yer jus’ makin’ fun now.” - he mumbles, visibly flushing, whether from feeling vulnerable or from your ministrations; probably both.

“Uh-uh.” - you shake your head left and right, looking at him in that certain kind of way.

Your words he may not believe, but he knows that _look_. He knows it _damn well_. And there ain’t no fakin’ that.

He knows what he’s gotta do about this soft flabby intruder - eat less and work out more. He’ll get to work on that asap. But now he had better things to do.

In fact, what was on his mind could count as his workout for the day. Yours too. And he’s eager to get started.


	2. Dad Bod Clyde, Part Deux, The Smuttening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: dad bod worship, body issues, insecurity, some sessy times

*

Clyde started training more vigorously than before after the horrifying revelation of his nascent dad bod.

Just like his acquired pregnancy-like cravings in the middle of the night when he finished work and came home, you usually fast asleep, the necessity to have to include a stricter regimen of exercise was embarrassing to him. He wished this could just work itself out and you didn’t have to know how his own body was failing and humiliating him.

*

For a few days, you were trying to just be supportive, loving, gently teasing, in an attempt to show him that his body was nothing but attractive to you and you didn’t expect him to maintain a military physique his whole life. You yourself were certainly not about to starve yourself or workout to the point of obsession and discomfort to maintain a prepubescent body fat percentage.

None of it really served to instantly make him feel better, so you just allowed him to have his feelings and resolved to continue your life as usual and address any of his concerns if and when they cropped up.

It was a good plan until one day a perfect storm of your hormones and his raw animal appeal completely shut down your rational brain.

*

He was out for a run and workout in the woods and came in, heading straight for the shower.

You were in your bedroom, lazily doing some prenatal yoga, pleasantly lost in thought when Clyde, not wanting to disturb you, ran out of the bathroom to grab a towel off the drying rack. The glistening, bouncy form caught your eye and, in no time, your body had decided what would happen.

“Honey, can you come help me, please?” – you asked in your sweetest, most apologetic voice, for interrupting him, though he had the patience of a saint and never seemed to mind being interrupted.

He agreed and moments later appeared at your bedroom door, towel wrapped around his hips, as adorable and flustered as you imagined he would be now that you could take him in.

Inky tentacles of wet hair clung to his face and neck, extending to his shoulders when damp, fair skin slightly flushed from the heat of the water, droplets gliding down his thick arms, broad barrel chest and smooth stomach, the cutest little pouch quivering above the towel he was clutching in his flesh hand.

He felt self-conscious under your intense, shameless gaze as you walked up to him, gently sliding your fingers over his forehead and down his cheeks, gathering the wet strands of hair and uncovering his face, caressing his neck and shoulders as you swept it back, pressing firmly against him and pulling him in for a hungry kiss. He tried to stick out his ass, moving his front away from you.

“M’gone get y’all wet.” – he warned as you separated your lips to change angles, giving him half a chance to breathe and speak.

You were not so easily deterred, wrapping your arms around his waist and pushing right back into him, smiling against his lips as you went after them again. – “Not to be crass, but the ship’s sort of sailed.”

He straightened up, looking at your eyes, fogged over with lust, heart picking up nervously as you kissed along his jaw, dipping under it to nuzzle and kiss at his neck, hands roaming all around his back, gut twisting nervously and painfully as your hands slid over his side, against his belly, up to his chest.

It had been a few days since you made love – ever since his unfortunate realization – which was unusual, given his desire for you and your current hormonal appetites. But his dissatisfaction with his body and the resulting self-consciousness made him forego one of the greatest pleasures in his life. It could barely even be considered foregoing since he was so down on himself, he would barely even get there in his mind.

The thought, the possibility that you were doing this just to make him feel better was so heavy on his heart, he couldn’t even enjoy your attentions. Especially when you got near any area that especially bothered him.

Lost in these thoughts, he didn’t notice himself complying with your wordless command to get on the bed, your legs nudging against and between his as you walked him towards it, distracting and seducing him with your hands and lips.

He sat gracelessly with a bounce and huff, getting slightly emotional and feeling so stupid; first, for not noticing anything as it was happening and for letting something so superficial get him so down.

You were on his lap in the blink of an eye, gripping his neck and shoulders tightly for balance, and luxuriating in easing yourself in his lap, loving the closeness, the feel of him under you, the glide of his skin against you.

When he didn’t do what he usually did – hand kneading your thigh and ass, arm hooked around your waist – you snapped your eyes open and sat further back on his thighs, looking to see what was wrong.

“What is it, honey?” – you asked, smacking his lips a few times. He let you kiss him, looking so sad and defeated, like it’s the last time you would ever do it.

Instead of replying, he just blushed, neck and ears getting hot and red – how could he possibly tell you how he was feeling about himself and how he suddenly believed he didn’t deserve to be desired?

You had an inkling, even if you didn’t realize the full extent of it, and you instinctively knew your body could much more persuasively show him how you felt than you could put into words, so rational and so feeble against the onslaught of new and challenging emotions, so prone to failing when they were needed the most.

Bunching up the towel in his lap as you were grinding into him, you released his neck and slid your hands over his shoulders, massaging up and down his chest, squeezing at his ample pecks as hard you could, knowing he could take it, making his jaw clench, eyes intense and hard on yours as he took your roughness, tongue darting out to wet his lips as you released him, knowing he liked the pain.

“Do you even understand?”- you asked breathily, getting off of him for just a moment. - “How irresistible you look?” – you finished your rhetorical question, pulling your shirt over your head and discarding it anywhere, moving on to slide your bottoms and underwear down quickly, stepping out of them, Clyde extending his arms towards you this time, helping you and welcoming you back, his shyness and negativity far outshined by your obviously genuine emotion.

You grabbed at his jaw, pursing his lips between your fingers and looked at him until he smiled - more out the pleasure of being near you than because he felt good - diving in and feasting on him again.

He grunted and huffed under you as you bit at his neck, the meaty part of his shoulder, alternating between squeezing it in your teeth and soothing it with your wet lips, making him shiver. You ran your hands coarsely over his pecks, so thick and full, palms grazing over his nipples, the friction hot and dry, drawing hisses of overstimulation from him before you let his chest go, pushing him down and sliding up higher over his hips to resume your enjoyment of his delicious body.

Pressing your hands into the soft of his stomach, finally holding him _there_ , your lips latched on his chest, needing to cover every inch of skin and every freckle with all the love you could pour into your kisses. You kneaded and squeezed at his hips, committing every part of his new body to memory in your flesh, running your nails across his happy trail, making his whole pelvis twitch and quiver from that tantalizing ghost of a touch. Finally, you swirled your tongue over one nipple, soothing the slight chafing you caused, this tender attention now so much more intense from the previous overstimulation, shooting bolts of arousal all around his body, cock straining and crying for attention, head pressing into the pillows, body thrumming, dying to connect with yours in that sublime, primal way.

Your laid your body over his, pressed into his burning skin, grinding on him still, slowly, excruciatingly, dragging over his thick veiny cock, feeling ever inch as you slid down it – smiling as you watched Clyde’s almost pained expression, focusing on what you were doing to him - letting it bob up between your legs, then slide on the underside, pressing it into his soft stomach, pushing down hard and teasing yourself as much as him, almost slipping it in, letting it linger right there for a quivering, breath-hitching moment, his eyebrows knitting, mouth falling silently open, and then resuming the slow, maddening pace, giving both of you just enough to keep the tension building, and building. You enjoyed his strangled and hitched breaths, the twitches in his thighs and abdomen, his long thick neck straining for breath, swallowing hard, kissing at the veins and sinews as it bobbed.

Clyde gripped your hips, pulling you down harder as he needed more, _more_ , loving you grinding on him, teasing him to the point of desperation, so much that he came close to just stilling you and sliding himself in, as you only barely let him skirt your entrance, the head catching for a moment, almost penetrating. As temped as he was to just do it, he wouldn’t until you wanted him to, until you told him you needed it – that was half the game, half the pleasure and thrill. So he just guided you, making you undulate just how he liked, press on him harder, slower, feeling everything, pressure building unbearably.

You leaned on your elbows, caging his head between your arms, nibbling on his scorching earlobe, eliciting a moan he was trying to swallow down, rolling your hips in tight, slow circles against him, his belly so soft and comfortable under you, needing to tell him exactly how much he was driving you crazy, stepping out of that shower, flushed and fragrant, so massive and hot, such a fucking _man_ and all yours, the need for him was too intense and maddening, and you needed him to give it to you, give you everything, until you could finally think straight again.

“You don’t even fucking know, do you? How much you fucking turn me on? How much I love this body of yours? Your big, broad chest? Your long legs, tree trunk thighs? When I sit in your lap and wiggle around? You like that?” – you asked and he felt like he was under a spell, yours to do with whatever you wanted. He breathed out an mhm, not knowing how he would take it, but wanting to hear more of what you had to say. – “You arms, when you wrap around me and it’s like another world inside your chest, so close to you. And now… you’re so fucking delicious, you know that? When you pin me under you, when your belly is soft against mine, when you steamroll over me and I can feel you on me for hours after. And I can’t stop thinking about it, about you all over me, under me, in me.” – as you spoke, he felt tears starting to gather in the corner of his eyes, from stimulation and from how truly naked and vulnerable he felt, your words zeroing in on every insecurity he was experiencing, but somehow diluting it, turning it into something he wanted to give you, to ruin you with.

“Do you know that how much I want you? All the time? How much I gotta have you like this?” – you asked, propping yourself up, making him look at you and answer. All he could do was nod, pleasure closing his eyes as he struggled to keep them open and take you in, lips trapped between his teeth, needing something to keep them busy, even it was his own teeth digging into them.

“I want it now, Clyde.” - you told him and he knew his cue to take over, flip you, put you under him and work you as well as he’s learned to, until you’re blissed out and satisfied.

You didn’t normally tell him it’s his size specifically that turned you on, though you loved being the little spoon when you cuddle, you sat in his lap, and sank into his chest when he hugged you from behind. You would say how much you loved him, how beautiful he was to you, how good…

So to hear now it’s his body, his body _parts_ , the size, the mass, the girth, his weight on you; all of that that’s making you mewl and pant and gush around him as he eased in, out, pulse and clench, drawing him deeper in, make those beautiful sounds… He finally believed you. You couldn’t hug him close enough, take enough of him into your arms, you loved and wanted all of him, even when he didn’t, and that was too good to wrap his head around.

To consider that you observed him, watched his body with that sort of keen interest and that it had _this_ effect on you, that you lusted for him in just the same way he lusted for you was new and exciting and, frankly, crazy. It was a whole new vulnerability and self-awareness for him, but after you talked to him like _that_ , drained of him of everything – desire, fear, yearning – and filled him with everything he needed – acceptance, connection, reassurance – he couldn’t help but feel proud, wanted, sexy, worthwhile.

So he held you in place, no room to pull away when he hit all those spots that set you over the edge; arms tight around you, body pressing heavily into yours, pinning you to the bed, as his thighs slapped against yours, hips snapping, setting a punishing pace, hurtling towards the release you both needed equally badly.

You cried out, nails digging into his back, gushing and squeezing around him in deep fast pulses that started to slow as you relaxed, finally catching the breath you needed, and he let your waves ease and clench his own release out of him, pounding several deep, hard thrusts into you, blinded and deafened by the power of it, still in its throes, spurting again and again, and then finally breaking through, breathing, returning to his senses.

When your own senses came back and you were over the wave that crashed into you, shattering you for a while, you laughed that satisfied little laugh he loved so much, surviving another little death, your love firmly in your arms.

He couldn’t resist, like he never could, sliding in a out of a few more times, feeling both your bodies, now spent and glowing, slip in and around each other, still one, still connected by that carnal magic.

You made him lay on top of you after you were done, feeling his softness, his weight on you, as he burned red and hot, tears collected in his eyes as you arms pressed him harder into your skin, holding him closer, fingers stroking his wet hair soothingly.

Clyde contemplated the effect you had on him, how you owned him, body and soul, and how grateful he was to belong to you so completely, so lovingly, so securely.

And the memory of your words, about him, about everything on his body he was struggling with, so hot and passionate, set that fire ablaze in him again, made him eager to use this body, as imperfect as it was to him, to give you everything you wanted, as often as you wanted it, as long as you felt this desire for it.

*

And gradually, after you took him, loved him, time and time again, the love rubbed off and he welcomed it.

*


	3. Clyde's dad bod boot camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some dad bod!Clyde HCs

§ During and after your first pregnancy, Clyde is still not sold on his dad bod, so he goes hard to make sure he loses the weight and he gets so into dieting and exercising that he gets very fit, flat and hard all over.

§ It’s really not that great. It’s like making love to a fridge sized Lego.

§ You would never say anything, obviously, you love him however you can get him.

§ But you’re a sly little thing, and you start tempting him in other ways, cooking his favorite food, distracting from working out in inventive, rewarding ways.

§ Brownies are his weakness and he asks you not to make them unless you want the dad bod back.

§ Little does he know, you thick cuddly bear, that is all you really want.

§ You find out you’re pregnant again and, delightedly, you announce it by baking his favorite treat.

§ He doesn’t get it at first, sitting down to dig in because he just can’t resist and he’s two servings in before he notices your face, dying to tell him with your eyes or words what the occasion is.

§ “Darlin’?” – he ask, mouth full, eyes wide.  
“Yeeeahh?” – you drag, playing dumb.  
He looks down on the plate he’s decimated, then narrows his eyes at you. – “Are ya… Ya tellin’ me…?”  
You nod furiously, unable to contain yourself. As he braces the table to jump to his feet, the plate goes flying and smashes on the floor. Clyde says it’s good luck.

§ Jimmy gets a frantic call and before he can even say hello, Clyde hollers “She jus’ made me brownies!” He has to think for a bit and Clyde can hear the cogs turning, one arm around you, already going into protective bear dad mode. Jimmy gets it and lights up “Heeey, congratulations, little brother! Good goin’!”

§ A few weeks in, a patron delicately brings up that he’s packing on the pounds and Clyde fucking glows with happiness.

§ He can’t wait till you make another tray in the future.

§ You see him lounging on the couch, a bag of chips by his side, which he had been avoiding like the plague before. “Darlin’, there’s gonna be two li’l Logans this go-round. I gotta have enough surface area for two lots of cuddles.”

§ He goes back to Lamaze as the conquering hero. He’s happy to see some familiar faces from before, and he encounters new fresh dads to inadvertently outshine. The newbies are warned by the veterans not to try to go into a competition with Clyde and showboat for their gals, he’s just too damn good.

§ Clyde makes the mistake one day, hanging out with the dads, of letting them in on the dad bod secret.  
“Ya girl will love it. Ma darlin’…” – he tries to look for a decent way of saying you’re riding that soft dad bod day and night. – “She can’t get enough of it.”

§ But they go overboard, getting real sloppy and unwieldy, and the moms-to-be are annoyed.

§ And they blame Clyde, since the husbands all rat on him instantly, making it seem like he had insisted this was the best way to support their partners. 

§ So the angry mob of wives sends their pudgy husbands, hat in hand, to your door and Clyde has to train them, make them lose the weight. Fast.

§ You find a bunch of rotund dads, like a clowder of stray cats, on your porch asking if Clyde is there to come out and whip them into shape.

§ So Clyde and Jimmy get to setting up a chubby dad obstacle course in the woods for these unfortunate gentlemen, Clyde being their drill sergeant and Jimmy mostly there for moral support and to make fun of them.

§ “The key to the perfect dad bod is moderation, gentlemen.” – Clyde explains. – “All ya want is just a li'l pouch.” – Clyde demonstrates.

“Just a li'l _boop_ over the belt.” – Jimmy echoes, puffing and sticking out his belly.

“For the mama to play with.” – Clyde elucidates. – “For the baby’s head when they wanna nap there.” – he adds, getting that fuzzy, loving feeling, thinking about his little girl when she was a baby and slept on her dad’s belly.

“This all woulda been useful information before.” – one of the disgruntled, plump dads speaks up.

“Ya gotta see yer feet still, fellas, that’s where yer goin’ wrong.” – Jimmy fires off, no consideration for their feelings.

“Dad bod and beer gut are different things, gentlemen.” – Clyde softens Jimmy’s statement, referring to many of the dads filling out their bellies night after night at his own bar.

“Beer guts ain’t soft enough, man. Ain’t no mama gonna wanna mess with that.” – Jimmy adds, warning them that it’s really no laughing matter.

“Here’s a good rule - keep the V.” – Clyde concludes, thinking that should clear it all up, Jimmy nodding in agreement.

“The V?” – someone asks.

“I ain’t never had the V!” – another person protests.

“Then ya gotta get the V! Whachu doin’ without the V?” – Clyde gawps, realizing he’s really got his work cut out for him here.

“My body jus’ don’t do that!”

“Oh, it does.” – a low grumble comes out of Clyde, making the man’s eyes widen in trepidation. – “I’m gon’ train you up real good.” – Clyde promises, clapping him on the shoulder, eyes contact intense, but it just sounds menacing to the man, making him wish he never brought it up

§ To be perfectly honest, there’s hardly anything hotter to you than seeing your big man impart wisdom on how to be the best damn papa bear there is, making the thick, bouncy dads sweat and curse, motivating them and always reminding them of their duties to their partners and little ones.

§ After every training session, you’re all over him and he just doesn’t put two and two together until you tell him how commanding and wonderful he seems.

§ When he finally gets to that stage that his dad bod jiggles just a li’l bit when he walks, your brain just goes haywire.

§ When he steps out of shower, all glistening and soft, you gotta hug him from behind and get a handful of it and kiss his shoulders. He’s self-conscious, saying how he needs to go get dressed otherwise he’ll catch a cold, but you don’t let up.

§ Like a big pregnant cat, you sit in his lap any chance you get, knocking whatever he’s doing out his hand and lap, and just lean into the dad belly, so warm and comfy.

§ And the dad titties.

§ A whole handful. You can’t resist pushing them together and playing with them, kneading, cuddling into them.

§ Clyde won’t admit it, but he loves it when you do that

§ You pinch ‘em as you walk by and he crosses his arms over his chest – “Ow, they’re sensitive! Doncha know?”

§ You catcall him as he showers, changes. He always blushes and rolls his eyes, saying you’re just being silly.

§ But then you find him flexing in the mirror one day, trying to figure out exactly what you’re seeing and why it feels like you are very literally trying to eat him up.

§ You wolf-whistle him, to the best of your ability, and he turns crimson in a second, wanting to die of embarrassment.

§ But you just kiss him all over, in absolute delirium over how much you love him and he feels better. You’re just always too good to him and he should probably just stop trying to figure it out logically and enjoy it.


	4. Chapter 4

*

Squishy dad bod Clyde is so much fun to hold.

He is fun to do everything with, but coming up to him from behind on the porch, as he stands there in his usual home attire, barefoot in shorts and faded tee, hair softly moving in the breeze… He’s focused on something else, feet shoulder width apart, hips pushed out, belly peeking under his shirt, lips pursed and pouty in thought and just wrapping your arms around him…

Leaning into the that broad solid back, hands flat on his sides, gliding over his stomach, going in circles, following that soft curve, fingers dipping under the hem of his shirt and feeling the skin, him jerking away from the tickling sensation, but you grip him closer.

You put your hands all up inside the shirt, travel up over the belly and clasp them around his chest, holding one wrist with the opposite hand, and squeeze him close, squeeze him tight, till your muscles are taut and achy with the effort and you just feel the easy huff in his chest as he laughs, able to take all your strength and much much more. So you relax, the powerful, almost aggressive display at the sudden rush of affection fading, and just rock with that gorgeous, massive body, turning your brain off and brimming with love.

*


End file.
